Aparigraha: Loving something without requiring it to remain unchanged

If you've been here a while, you probably already know that the new Treehouse Yoga Studio is almost done.

I've been watching it take shape slowly, participating actively in its creation, just as how I did when I designed the current studio now. The floors, walls, windows, fixtures, and all the little decisions that require, I don't know, ten, twelve, twenty other decisions after them. There's still a lot of work to do, but it has reached the point where one can already walk into the space and actually imagine us there. Quite exciting! (Tempted to share a video here ... but maybe not. Hehe.)

PSA: We are not moving just yet.

In fact, we deliberately planned for the two studios to run at the same time for a while. Our next Yoga Teacher Training will be held in the new studio while the current studio will run the regular classes until the end of March. (This makes YTT Batches 2026 and 2027 extra special.)

So the move is not exactly soon soon. But it is looming.

And lately, I have found myself looking around the studio differently. Like, with fresh eyes.

Every time someone shares a photo or a video of Treehouse, with sunlight piercing through the windows, the white curtains dancing with the breeze, or the view of the sunset, I feel teary-eyed. The studio has been a constant in my life for 11 years, and for some of you yogis, I'm sure the physical studio feels like a sanctuary. I mean, one cannot help but feel it, right? I feel sentimental, grateful, sad, and excited all at the same time.

Which brings me to Aparigraha, our theme at Treehouse this September.

Aparigraha is usually translated as non-grasping or non-possessiveness. Sometimes we talk about it as "letting go," although I think I prefer "loosening our grip." Letting go can sound so final, as though the practice requires us to detach ourselves from everything we care about.

There is a lot of Treehouse history inside those walls. So many classes, trainings, conversations, celebrations, difficult seasons, new teachers finding their voices, students becoming friends. There are people who walked into that space for the first time knowing nobody and eventually becoming part of its furniture. (You know who you are. 😂)

You see, I don't particularly want to practice being "detached" from or to "let go" of any of that.

But maybe Aparigraha isn't asking me to. Perhaps the question is whether I can love a place deeply without requiring it to remain the same.

Yes, the studio, the location, the way the breeze blows or the light hits will change. The sunset will look different. Most of the yoga props we have now will be replaced with newer ones, while some, we will need to retire already. Heck, that includes the studio! When the ceiling fan broke, or when the floor gave in last year, or some other fixture needed replacement, we teachers joked about it in our group chat, "Sumusuko na yata si Treehouse, alam na nyang buo na yung bago." 😂

The more I think about it, the more I realize that most of what makes Treehouse Treehouse isn't merely physical anyway. I think it's energetic: the way people are welcomed, how the teachers always know your name, the conversations before and after class, the new friendships formed, the collective struggle in Chair Pose... Treehouse is Treehouse because there's a particular way this community has learned, over the years, to make room for people exactly as they are.

None of those belong to the building.

Maybe that is what Aparigraha is teaching me before I am even ready to leave: that we can honor what a place has held for us without believing that everything meaningful has to stay there.

How this shows up in our lives

The opportunity to practice Aparigraha or loosening our grip shows up in so many ways in our life.

Recently, I've had conversations with friends who have decided to pivot from their careers and gently release the identity they have attached to that. I've talked to parents whose kids are transitioning as adults, and how their "baby" is no longer a baby. Some people (including some of our teachers!) are moving into new chapters in their lives and physically moving into new homes and cities as well.

These are big opportunities to practice loosening our grip. Lots of big, mixed emotions.

But there are also small ones, like cleaning out our closet of the clothes for the body that we used to have or the life we used to live (or the imaginary occasion that we apparently expected to attend one day). There's also clearing our phone gallery of the screenshots and photos we have used once and never deleted (digital hoarding is a very modern form of grasping; time to delete all the old BTS wallpapers, I guess, haha). Oh, and how about all the boxes we keep from all our purchases that included a box? Ha. I have some of those. And I don't know what for; it's not like I'm going to sell my keyboard "in pristine condition" after 5 years, 'no? And here, my favorite (and I'm being sarcastic): leftovers in the fridge with that tiny guilt involved in throwing food so we just keep it in there until mold takes over. (My family has learned to either eat everything or give it away while it's still edible.)

Okay, that's a long paragraph. I really can go on and on with this one.

Maybe that's why I like thinking of Aparigraha as loosening our grip rather than letting go. Not everything we hold onto needs some dramatic farewell. Sometimes we just need to notice that we're still holding it.

And my invitation to you is to be curious: Do I still need this? Do I still want this? Is this still appropriate for the life I have now?

Sometimes the answer will be yes. Keep the thing. Stay with the work. Hold the memory close. There is nothing wrong with caring deeply about the people, places, roles, and things that matter to us.

And sometimes, the answer will be no.

Some things may just have already served its purpose. And with that, we bow in gratitude.

I suppose that's where I am with Treehouse right now. I'm definitely not ready to let go of the old studio yet (writing this has made me teary already). We still have months there, classes to teach, people to welcome, and memories to make.

But I know I need to already start practicing loosening my grip. 😮‍💨

May you always bring the magic of Treehouse with you.

Love, Rachel